Richard Schiff, who played Toby in the West Wing, reveals, in this massively comprehensive group interview about the show, just how particular Aaron Sorkin is about actors in his shows sticking exactly to the script. And why.

“I had been used to improvising and even in the audition I was feeling free to rearrange Aaron’s words a little bit, as lovely as they were. I didn’t find out until after I got the part how furious Aaron was at me for doing that. They said, “He was livid. He did everything in his power not to jump down your throat!” I came to realise that Aaron was writing in meter and the rhythm of the language is very important.”

I like that what Toby was for Bartlett in the show was what Sorkin was to Schiff, who plays Toby, in real life.

Like in this walk and talk (broken down comprehensively in this article).

This revelation about Sorkin’s obsession with meter makes one of my favourite little scenes in the West Wing pretty meta. Turns out it’s possibly based in fact too. From the script of Season 4, Episode 13.

“Toby is reading a piece of paper and laughs to himself.

BARTLET
[to Toby] What’s going on?

TOBY
The Chief Justice– wrote a dissenting opinion in Sea Northern v. Arizona,
saying that an association between asbestos and a higher risk of cancer in later
life was insufficient to merit relief.

BARTLET
So what?

TOBY
He… [chuckles] I don’t know how to say this. He wrote it in meter.

BARTLET
A meter?

TOBY
He wrote a dissenting opinion in what I am almost certain is trochiac tetrometer.
Will?

WILL
It is.

BARTLET
What are you talking about?

TOBY
He starts in the fourth graph.

Toby walks up to the podium and hands the paper to Bartlet.

BARTLET
“Fear of cancer from asbestos, fuzzy science manifestos.”

TOBY
A guy just faxed this to Will.

BARTLET
Which one’s Will?

Toby points to Will standing in the back of the room.

TOBY
He is.

Will raises his hand.

TOBY
It’s a loud syllable followed by a soft syllable, which is a trochaic foot,
then there’s four per comma, which is tetrameter.”

Writing/speaking in meter is kind of a running gag in the West Wing. It was there in Season 2, episode 5, as well…

Ainsley Hayes: Mr. Tribbey? I’d like to do well on this, my first assignment. Any advice you could give me that might point me the way of success would be, by me, appreciated.
Lionel Tribbey: Well, not speaking in iambic pentameter might be a step in the right direction.

Sorkin is apparently as fascinated with the rhythm of language as his characters.

He’s big on what words can do together.

“TOBY
You want the benefits of free trade? Food is cheaper.

SACHS
Yes.

TOBY
Food is cheaper, clothes are cheaper, steel is cheaper, cars are cheaper, phone service
is cheaper. You feel me building a rhythm here? That’s ‘cause I’m a speechwriter and I
know how to make a point.

SACHS
Toby…

TOBY
It lowers prices, it raises income. You see what I did with ‘lowers’ and ‘raises’ there?

SACHS
Yes.

TOBY
It’s called the science of listener attention. We did repetition, we did floating opposites
and now you end with the one that’s not like the others. Ready? Free trade stops wars. And
that’s it. Free trade stops wars! And we figure out a way to fix the rest! One world, one
peace. I’m sure I’ve seen that on a sign somewhere.

SACHS
God, Toby… Wouldn’t it be great if there was someone around here with communication skills
who could go in there and tell them that?”

And then there’s this bit in season 4, episode 1…

MALLORY
Nice job on the speech.

SAM
What makes you think I wrote it?

MALLORY
“We did not seek nor did we provoke…” “We did not expect nor did we invite…”

SAM
A little thing called cadence.

It’s the little things.

Man jumps off incredibly super high building. Lands in pool. Survives. There’s a parachute which makes this survival slightly more probable (well. Significantly. But still).

A bit of a language warning.

Bird. Meet camera.

I like where the ubiquity of cameras is taking us.

We’ve got the Katter Australia Party, and the Palmer United Party, I think it’s time we had the Fred Nile Party – the suggestion that Nile’s Christian Democratic Party (CDP) is definitively Christian is getting harder and harder to swallow. I propose a rebrand.

The TL:DR; version of this post is that if you think the CDP should change its name you should fill out this change.org petition.

Here’s what the CDP says it stands for:

“While we have fought for the values that made our nation, we are committed to the future development of our nation as an inclusive community based on cohesive values that made us a people.

The CDP seeks to support and promote pro-Christian, pro-family, pro-child, pro-life policies for the benefit of all Australians, and to ensure that all legislation is brought into conformity with the revealed will of God in the Holy Bible, with a special emphasis on the ministry of reconciliation.”

It’s unclear to me how this image the CDP shared on Facebook is consistent with this platform, let alone with the God of the Bible (the Bible is curiously silent on Australia and the role of its flag), it isn’t silent on how we’re to treat people who are different to us – especially how those who are powerful should treat those who are vulnerable or marginalised. In a democracy, where you’re part of the majority – regardless of your socio-economic status – you are part of the ‘powerful.’

 

CDP

Muslims in Australia are not our enemies. They’re our neighbours. And even if a particular individual wants to position themselves as my enemy – or yours – if you follow Jesus this doesn’t change how you treat that individual. Here’s what Jesus says in Matthew 5 (verses 44 and 45)

You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven.”

I can’t fathom how this image is loving to our Muslim neighbours (a core value of Christianity from the mouth of Christ himself).  I certainly can’t fathom how the word Christian belongs on the image at all. I don’t think Jesus is particularly interested in the Australian flag. His concern is that people put their trust in him, and find their citizenship in his kingdom. People are in the same non-Jesus boat whether their rejection of him pushes you towards a storm trooper helmet, Australian flag face paint, or the niqab.

Our citizenship, as Christians, is not caught up in the nation we are providentially born into, or blessed to migrate to and be accepted into as citizens, our citizenship is tied up with our king, and that means though we’ll want to love our neighbours in whatever geographical context we find ourselves.

There’s a letter about Christians, written to a guy named Diognetus, that describes how the early church lived in the places they lived that would be helpful for us to remember – especially as the idea of Christendom gets smaller and smaller in our rear view mirrors.

But while they live in both Greek and barbarian cities, as each one’s lot was cast, and follow the local customs in dress and food and other aspects of life, at the same time they demonstrate the remarkable and admittedly unusual character of their own citizenship.

They live in their own countries, but only as nonresidents; they participate in everything as citizens, and endure everything as foreigners.

Every foreign country is their fatherland, and every fatherland is foreign.

We don’t need to get caught up in jingoism (and if we do find nationalism, or patriotism, personally compelling, perhaps reflecting on the role our ancestors have played in shaping the country we live in, or being excited about the role we play in shaping our nation as citizens, we certainly need to distinguish our patriotism from our Christianity).

Philippians 3 kind of captures all this stuff – it talks about what a Christian looks like (they follow the example of Jesus, in this case Paul as he follows that example), it talks about those people who don’t follow Jesus. It should grieve us when people don’t follow Jesus.

17 Join together in following my example, brothers and sisters, and just as you have us as a model, keep your eyes on those who live as we do. 18 For, as I have often told you before and now tell you again even with tears, many live as enemies of the cross of Christ. 19 Their destiny is destruction, their god is their stomach, and their glory is in their shame. Their mind is set on earthly things. 20 But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, 21 who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body.

You might want to play the “no true Scotsman” game here, but I’m going to work on the assumption that the word Christian means what it meant when it was coined (you may also want to call this an etymological fallacy). Christians are people who follow Jesus. Here’s a little story from Acts that describes how people first came to be called Christians, and who this label described – you’ll notice that it transcends national boundaries, but particularly it describes the changes that make people ‘Christian’… This is from Acts 11.

19 Now those who had been scattered by the persecution that broke out when Stephen was killed traveled as far as Phoenicia, Cyprus and Antioch, spreading the word only among Jews. 20 Some of them, however, men from Cyprus and Cyrene, went to Antioch and began to speak to Greeks also, telling them the good news about the Lord Jesus.21 The Lord’s hand was with them, and a great number of people believed and turned to the Lord.

22 News of this reached the church in Jerusalem, and they sent Barnabas to Antioch.23 When he arrived and saw what the grace of God had done, he was glad and encouraged them all to remain true to the Lord with all their hearts. 24 He was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and faith, and a great number of people were brought to the Lord.

25 Then Barnabas went to Tarsus to look for Saul, 26 and when he found him, he brought him to Antioch. So for a whole year Barnabas and Saul met with the church and taught great numbers of people. The disciples were called Christians first at Antioch.

I have no reason to doubt that Fred Nile is a Christian. I’m not calling that into question. But the CDP platform in general, and this message above in particular, are not Christian policies, they’re Fred Nile’s policies. It’s wrong for him to suggest otherwise. Jesus is the essence of Christianity. I’d go further to suggest that his sacrificial love on behalf of his enemies, in order to invite them to be part of his kingdom (and indeed, his family) is the essence of Jesus.
This charade has gone on for far too long. There might not seem like much you can do about it beyond putting up your hand and saying ‘not in my name,’ and working hard to love and include Muslims treating them like Jesus treated you. But please pray for Fred Nile. He’s a human. By all accounts he loves Jesus. Pray for those in the CDP. And write to them. You can get Fred Nile’s email address here, or simply sign this change.org petition and you’ll send him this email:


Dear Fred,

The time has come. While it is true, in the broadest sense, that the Christian Democratic Party occupies a legitimate position in Australia’s political landscape, and it is true that people of faith should have a voice in Australian politics, we call on you to change the name of your party because at present you are not living up to any of your titular nouns.

Christian (n): Followers of Jesus Christ.
Democratic (n): relating to, or supporting democracy or its principles.
Party (n): a social gathering of invited guests, typically involving eating, drinking, and entertainment.

or:

a formally constituted political group that contests elections and attempts to form or take part in a government.

While I have no reason to doubt that you are a follower of Jesus, personally, it is clear from recent hateful nationalistically driven attempts to prevent other citizens of Australia exercising their democratic rights (where a CDP Facebook post suggested Australian flag face paint is the “only face-covering that is acceptable in Australia”) that the CDP’s actions are not those that can meaningfully said to be following Jesus.

Jesus laid down his life for his enemies to make them his family, and called those following his example – taking his name – to love our neighbours (and our enemies). There is no Christian rationale for treating a fellow human as an enemy.

It is also clear that the CDP is not interested in extending democratic principles to those people they disagree with. It is also clear that your party is failing to adequately act as a party in either sense – in this bigoted posturing dressed up as ‘Christian’ you are neither entertaining, nor ‘attempting to form or take part in a government’.

If you are not going to speak in any way that recognisably represents or recommends that people find their identity in Jesus – God’s king – then please change your name.

“But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body.” – Philippians 3:20
Sincerely,
[Your name]


Other stuff to read

We recently added a puppy to our family menagerie. Taking our pet tally up to 1 turtle, 4 chickens, and said puppy. It turns out puppies chew up lots of stuff they’re not meant to. They’re expensive. So too, are children. They break stuff.

calvin

There are all sorts of studies out there about how much it costs to raise a child – few, if any, consider the damages bill. So this study, which uses Calvin, from Calvin and Hobbes, as a test case, is ground breaking research.

 

“According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, raising a child from start to age 17 costs, for those in the middle-income groups, anywhere from $226,800 to $264,600 total[1]. These costs include housing, food, transportation, clothing, health care, education, and other miscellaneous items (such as entertainment, personal care, and reading materials[2].) Missing from this estimate is an explicit approximation of the amount of damage that children can cause (here, damage refers to that of the break-a-window physical kind, not that of the mommy-and-daddy-need-a-therapist emotional kind). Such an estimate would increase the accuracy of the USDA’s estimate and the budgets of new parents, depending on how destructive they project their child to be. “…

To estimate the cost from damaged goods, I searched amazon.com for comparable items, with some exceptions (e.g., Calvin’s Mom seems somewhat fashionable, so when Calvin placed an incontinent toad on her sweater, I looked for a replacement on jcrew.com). To estimate cost for property damage, I used homewyse.com and fixr.com (using the zip code for Chagrin Falls, OH). In the few instances in which a monetary value was given in the comic, I used that value.

Results and Discussion

In total, Calvin caused an estimated $15,955.50 worth of damage over the duration of the comic strip (Figure 1). Damage ranged from a broken glass jar[6] ($2 from amazon.com) to a flooded house[7] ($4,798.83 from homewyse.com). Taking into account Watterson’s sabbaticals (see Figure 1) and the November start to the comics, Calvin caused $1,850.55 of damage per year. For context, the USDA estimates that middle-income families spend an estimated $1,750 per year on child care and education for 6 year-olds. In fact, the amount of damage caused by Calvin would rank 4th out of the USDA’s categories in annual expenditures, behind Housing, Food, and Transportation, and ahead of Education, Miscellaneous, Health Care, and Clothing.

Let there be (neon) light

This is fascinating. I’ve always kind of wondered how neon lights were made, but never really investigated.

 

Why the Internet exists

Pretty sure we can shut up shop now.

The Pixar Theory as a video

Previously. Now…

 

I am a huge fan of David Foster Wallace. I really enjoyed this little video where he talks about the kind of entertainment we consume, and it led me down the rabbit hole to this second, longer, interview. I love the stuff he says in the second video about the pacing of writing, and how you pace writing to shape the pace a reader reads. I read somewhere else that he wrote everything out using pen and paper (so too, apparently, did CS Lewis).

 

DFW: I don’t write quickly at all. And the stuff goes through draft, after draft, after draft. Although I know when it gets to a point that sounds real to me, part of the realness has to do with speed, and being a little bit of a control freak about how fast the reader is reading stuff, wanting some stuff to be read fairly slowly and to have a kind of echoey resonance to it, and wanting other stuff to seem breathless, and headlong, and kind of speedy.

Question: What techniques do you use to make a reader read faster or slower?

DFW: I think, probably, the easiest one is just how long the sentences are.

If you can do a sentence that is kind of a run on, but you can do the grammar such that the reader never gets lost, but also never quite really gets to stop. Then you get that kind of breathless quality. The trick with that is you can do a little bit of that and at least for me it’s cool, but if you do too much of and the reader gets fatigued and kind of pissed off. And so, there’s a certain matter of varying speeds.

I don’t know. People talk about the metrics of poetry a whole lot, but there’s no language for this as far as I know. I don’t know how people talk about the complexity and kind of, in terms of the physics of reading, the rapidity with which you read and process sentences.”

“When you’re writing stuff you get to a point where it just sounds right. And I think one of the ways it sounds right is when it just gets some sort of drum beat to it.”

Interview: Another thing that occurred to me about the occasional longish sentence that people come across in your work… you’re very aware of us as living in a media culture, besieged with lots of messages and bits of information. Could it be that a long sentence is a way of keeping at bay distractions. You can’t very well say “oh honey, I’ll be with you in a minute just let me finish this sentence” if the sentence has another few hundred words to go.

DFW: The sexy thing to say would be yes… I could say that sounds really plausible to me, and we could riff about that a certain amount. The fact of the matter is that writing it, for me, is so much less sophisticated, and primitive. So much of it goes by ear or stomach. And I think that to the extent that I’m interested in attention or fragmentation it has way more to do with the way things are structured or not structured or divided up or having different facets. The sentence thing has a whole lot to do with the fact that a whole lot of people, it sounds very gooey, but it’s true, who write… I started reading very young, and one of the reasons I started reading very young is because for whatever reason, I was lonely. And one of the things I went to books for was a relationship. Now a weird kind. I never really thought I was talking to a person. But there was the sense of an intelligence there. Or another human thing that I was communing with… And I think a lot of the stuff with the sentences… Like. I’ll grin when people laugh about the long sentence thing. I don’t think. Like in some sense, I don’t really get it. Yeah. I’ve got some long sentences. But I think it’s mostly, I don’t know about anyone else, but the way that I think. I don’t think in sentences.

Interview: What do you think in?

DFW: Like a not as good Joycean tumble. I don’t think I’m very interested in reproducing the form of that, the way like stream of consciousness does, but I think I’m interested in trying to induce the feeling of that, a little bit, at least sometimes. Truth be told, when the thing about long sentences gets a big laugh, what it makes me think of is that I’ve screwed up. Because if the grammar of the sentence is ok. If the sentence is structured right. Really the reader shouldn’t even notice that it’s a long sentence. And so, probably I’m just not doing it as well as I could. It’s not a stylistic thing, and I don’t think I have any cognitive program about it.”

LWTE_Header_gay_marriage_924wide

Big Brother with brains? SBS has something of a winning formula when it comes to mashing up people whose view points are diametrically opposed, and standing back to watch nature take its course. Go Back To Where You Came From was TV crack cocaine. I don’t know if these shows are all that great at producing lasting change, but watching people squirm through the reality of messy human relationships made up of messy humans with conflicting views is pretty good arm chair fodder. It’s voyeurism with a conscience..

Tonight Living With The Enemy, SBS’s new fly on the wall doco series, pitted Anglican Minister and blogger David Ould against engaged (and spoiler, by the end of the show, married) gay couple Gregory Storer and Michael Barnett. You can read a longish interview I did with David Ould back when he was getting over his first 15 minutes of fame on The Project.

David mentioned this show back in that interview – so I’d been looking forward to seeing it. I was expecting a crucifixion; a public humiliation where David managed to die a humiliating, public, death for the sake of the Gospel. We got some good Gospel stuff – but had to sit through the producer’s commitment to David undergoing some sort of redemptive narrative arc in order to get there. In something of an explanation not just of why he’s holding his position, but why he’s prepared to do it on national TV, David at one point says:

“I’m gonna stick with what Jesus says even if it makes me unpopular”

Like Go Back To Where You Came From the show is geared to emphasise just how opposed two particular views are.  Unlike Go Back To Where You Came From the agenda in Living With The Enemy did seem to be to paint both positions (at least in this debate) with a degree of sympathy. It certainly wasn’t clear that David was the bad guy. He was charming while his interlocutors were strident. He appeared committed to having a conversation while Michael Barnett used a pow wow in a sandstone, stained-glass windowed church to launch a stinging string of coarse invective at both David and the God he represents.

When Michael and Gregory arrived at David’s house they were told they wouldn’t be living in the house, but in a specially produced caravan. I don’t know how I would have handled this. I honestly don’t. But it did set a particular tone for the show where David was ‘exclusive’ while the gay couple were ‘inclusive’ – inviting David along to their wedding, and to join them in a gay pride march. This was a shame. I’m loathe to criticise the approach David took. Parenting is a  fraught ethical mine field, but I would have loved to have seen an all or nothing approach to having the guys live with a Christian family. It’s just that the decision involves real people – so while it would’ve been an interesting social experiment for me, the voyeuristic viewer, I (and the other remote jockeys around the country who feel this way) shouldn’t be in the driving seat when it comes to David’s family.

I love David, Michael, and Gregory’s willingness to take part in this exercise – but I felt like Michael, in particular, was more interested in scoring rhetorical points than in furthering the conversation. This could well have been a result of the producer’s desire for conflict. Both Michael and Gregory were genuinely upset and outraged by the Christian position – and this is one of the reasons we need to be exceptionally clear when we speak into this issue. We’re talking about real people with real emotions and real relationships. It’s messy. But all life is.

I thought the stuff with David’s identical twin brother Peter was particularly interesting. Having read Peter’s (now archived) blog for a few years I enjoyed his cameo. His story is significant, especially in the light of all the twin studies out there that have tried to explain the origins of sexual orientation. He makes an argument, by example, for the idea that sexual orientation can be somewhat fluid for some people. The format wasn’t a great format for presenting a nuanced view of this area – but I would have loved to see something in there about faithful singleness rather than a miraculous conversion to heterosexuality (even though Peter acknowledged this hasn’t been the entirety of his experience).

As much as I like David, as much as I enjoy his writing, his media appearances, and have enjoyed a few conversations with him over the last few years, I’m not in complete lock step with him when it comes to the marriage debate. I don’t particularly like his occasional reference to linking the production of children to marriage. I’m keen on defining it as a picture, affirmed and created by God, of the relationship between Jesus and the church. And seeing where we get to from there. The children bit kind of rules out (or devalues) marriage for people who know they can’t have kids or for people beyond child bearing age.

I’m also not particularly interested in fighting to convince an increasingly secular (and historically secular) nation that Christian definitions or constructs should bind them. The scene in the church, while jarring and offensive, actually cogently presented the atheist/homosexual case. And in a democracy, that case has legs. It’s just a case that needs to be made giving equal air time to all the views of all the constituents. Gregory is also right to want to avoid majorities dictating things for minorities. Might doesn’t make right. But this cuts both ways – whatever happens in the wash up of the marriage debate should protect all minorities, including people who want to maintain the Bible’s definition of marriage. That hasn’t necessarily been the case in other countries where the definition of marriage has shifted. Gregory and Michael need Jesus in order for the Christian view of sexuality to make sense. That’s the gap between Gregory and Michael and David’s twin brother Peter. The Gospel is compelling. Jesus is better than sex. His definition of love is better than anything we can imagine or experience. It is, as David calls it, profound. And appreciating this profundity is the key to reordering our understanding of sexual morality, and our definition of marriage flows from that. The Gospel is the horse that drives the marriage cart and how we define it. 

Producing a redemption narrative and THAT sermon

I don’t think David was naive when it came to what he was signing up for, and how it might be presented, but the perennial issue facing Christians who do any sort of media stuff is that while we have an agenda that pushes us to get in front of the camera – proclaiming Jesus – the person wielding the camera has a different agenda: putting together a product that captures attention and entertains. This is even more true in a series like this.

The producer of this program had a vested interest in presenting conflict between the ‘enemies’ and also in presenting a compelling picture of people being changed by the experience.

The church service featured in the show was a dummy service produced for the show. David didn’t just happen to preach about homosexuality as a deliberately pointed attack on his guests. That wouldn’t be particularly hospitable. I know this to be true, but you can also work it out because he says “this afternoon we will be talking about…” and Glenquarie Anglican only has a morning service. But this service was used as part of the narrative of redemption, the story arc that David’s character is taken on as he is confronted and changed by the utter humanity of his conversation partners (which is where the show ends up). It was edited so that David’s sermon boils down to Leviticus. And the idea that homosexuality is detestable. The complete recording of the sermon is available (as of tonight) on Glenquarie Anglican’s website. The producer takes the sermon massively out of context. He makes it something it isn’t (but, to be fair, he does zero in on how the sermon was heard by Gregory and Michael).

The old rule applies.

Never say something in front of a camera you don’t want taken out of context and broadcast to the world.

If you want the Gospel stuff to be included in the show – only say the Gospel stuff. Don’t talk about Leviticus. David’s position in the show gets closer to being Gospel driven as the ‘journey’ comes to an end; it’s not that David has changed, it’s that the presentation of his character shifts.

I’m sympathetic to the need for Christians to be able to articulate a position on Leviticus because it’s part of the Bible and this is a massive belief blocker for modern Australians. But the harsh edit of that sermon should have been expected, and maybe this wasn’t the platform to try to present a nuanced position that incorporates the whole counsel of God. I don’t know.

David’s ‘character’ undergoes a massive upwards turn, as far as the show presents him, at the point when he is invited to attend Michael and Gregory’s wedding. His response is beautiful. He thanks them for extending this inclusive attitude to him. He is polite and good-humoured throughout the wedding proceedings even though he is as out of his comfort zone, as any stranger attending a wedding of people who have spent five days being hostile, and who is invited for the sake of a television spectacle might be. Which is to say he’s not all that comfortable. But he has a couple of nice conversations with the mother of the groom, and the father of the groom.

David’s comment that using marriage to validate a relationship makes the relationship necessarily more self-serving than other weddings, was interesting, and worth considering.

After the wedding he has an interesting altercation with Michael, who asks, “what would Jesus do?” His answer is nice.

Jesus goes to many, many, people who he disagrees with. And he loves them profoundly. And he calls them to change.”

This ‘going to’ people in order to profoundly love them becomes the core of the redemption of David’s character at the hands of the producer in the downhill run to the program’s finish line. David is invited to take part in a gay pride parade. He agrees to in order to fully understand the reality of life for Michael and Gregory. The lack of ‘going to’ – the costly moving to where people are at – was a big feature of the producer’s use of the caravan and the awkward sermon – and that changes, in the show, because David is so well ‘included’ when he gets to Michael and Gregory’s house. The house of “no rules.”

It’s interesting that the show seems to play with this exclusion/inclusion dynamic, while not really editorialising the weird crassness/winsomeness divide. David, throughout, seems genuinely keen to be warm, even when he knows the caravan decision isn’t going to be popular. And this warmth continues when they aren’t face to face, using the diary camera. Michael and Gregory, on the other hand, are massively scathing of David (and his position) when he isn’t there, and, consistently, incredibly abrasive when he is.

In David’s pre-pride march epiphany he says he wants to love like Jesus does. Profoundly. Loving and being the friend of sinners and drunkards. This pushes him out of his comfort zone. And onto the streets of Melbourne with potentially, as Gregory named his fear: “a bunch of near naked men doing disgusting things with each other.” As he walks, David says “I’m not affirming their relationship, I’m just trying to be their friend”… It’s possible to be friends despite disagreeing.  “People are being gracious, being kind to me,” says David – he is genuinely being included by the gay community. Something for us to learn as Christians (though Gregory and Michael were pretty comfortable in David’s church, except when he was preaching).

The concluding statements where everybody has come through the experience changed (but unchanged) David says something really nice.

David: “I think the word enemy is not a good word for this discussion that we’re having. We’re conversation partners. We’re going to disagree. And if we work harder to find out what we can agree on and at least understand each other better, we can not only have a good conversation ourselves but actually maybe help our friends to have good conversations as well.”

“It has helped me further understand what life is like for gay people. Particularly what drives them on this issue. I haven’t changed my mind, but I’ve understood them better, I think.”

 

Gregory: “I have gained a bit of an insight into how the mind of somebody who is against marriage equality, how their mind actually works. I’ve learned that you can have good conversations with people if you take your time and listen carefully. You can understand somebody else’s point of view without agreeing with them

 

David: “I’m not sure I’m more sympathetic to the arguments Michael and Gregory gave me. I think I am more empathetic. I think I understand them more. I feel them more. What I’m going to do most of all is walk away from this experience and talk to my peers, my friends, those who are on my side of this debate and say here’s a couple of things I think you need to get clearer in your head.”

It was an interesting experiment. I’m looking forward to hearing his reflections in coming days.

ten tips for talking about sexuality

A couple of weeks ago I spoke at an event for people wanting to think about how to approach the complexity of debates and conversations about human sexuality in a way that points people to Jesus. You don’t have to go far to see Christians behaving badly in this space. In fact, there’ll be plenty of conversations on this topic kicking off in earnest tomorrow after my friend David Ould features on national television in the SBS series Living With The Enemy. I’m fairly confident we’ll be seeing the full gamut of Christian responses to homosexuality in the conversations around this program – from the helpful, to the unhelpful.

I realise as a married heterosexual I’m not really able to expertly navigate all the complexity in this space, but I am committed to the idea that we should be careful not to single out homosexuality as particularly egregious when all human sexual orientations are broken.  All orientations are broken because all humans are broken. Naturally. Hard-wired to reject our creator and live for ourselves. In every area.

Somewhere along the way I picked up a cool latin phrase that expresses the type of brokenness we bring to every area of our lives (it was either in Luther, or Augustine, or someone writing about Augustine’s influence on Luther) – homo incurvatus in se – which translates to the idea that our humanity is curved in on itself. We are self seeking. At the expense of others. We bring self interest to every facet of our lives. Including our sexual orientation. Including our heterosexual orientation, and our relationships… We do ourselves, and those we speak to, a disservice when we suggest sexual wholeness is found in heterosexual relationships as though marriage is a fix for this brokenness. It might be part of the solution, but the real path to wholeness – genuine human wholeness – is through a restored relationship with the creator of humanity. The God who made sex, and other good stuff.

My ten tips (which you can also find in the slides I used at this thing) were:

1. Make it about Jesus: A Christian response to questions about sexuality that is distinctly different to a Jewish or Islamic response will be different where it is about Jesus.

2. Mind the gap. In Corinthians (1 Cor 5) Paul is pretty adamant that Christian sexual ethics are for Christians. I think this has implications for how, where, and when, we speak about sexual morality.

“What business is it of mine to judge those outside the church” – 1 Cor 5:12

3. Love your (gay) neighbour. The (gay) shouldn’t have to appear in this tip at all. Sometimes it feels like Christians aren’t particularly loving in this space. But we’ve also got to resist the idea that love and sex are synonyms. An idea that has been made popular by such luminaries as Macklemore and K-Rudd. Just because the Bible speaks of love, and our society speaks of love, doesn’t mean we mean the same thing… When the Bible speaks of love the picture we should have in our heads isn’t limited to a wedding ceremony, the wedding ceremony is a picture of the love God has for people… We should be thinking that verses about love in the Bible are best explained by the sacrificial death of Jesus. The ultimate act of love.

This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.”

4. Start by apologising. The church has done some horrible, not-minding-the-gap, things in this space. The first time I heard the word apologetics I was really confused about the idea that Christians should be apologising for following Jesus. I think now our apologetic needs to include an apology for the times when Christians haven’t been good at following Jesus. Part of the issue in this space is, as Vaughan Roberts suggests:

The problem is largely caused by the fact that most of our comments on homosexuality are prompted, not primarily by a pastoral concern for struggling Christians, but by political debates in the world and the church.”

These were my favourite two slides in the whole presentation. I think they depict the relationship between history and the present.

warriors of christendom

culture war

We should be apologising for forgetting the humanity of those we speak against (or ‘othering’ them), for not being clear about our own natural sinfulness, for not distinguishing between orientation and sin, and for speaking as though the path to wholeness is a path to heterosexuality.

5. We need to divorce sexuality from identity. The assumption that you are who you want to have sex with – or who you’re born wanting to have sex with – is dangerous and dehumanising. It’s a form of slavery. Why can’t people be free to choose their own (sexual) identity, regardless of their natural inclinations? This is an odd and dangerous idea. Note: whether people are ‘born gay’ or formed gay by their environment (or both) is kind of irrelevant – it’s not really a ‘choice’ (mostly), though sexuality also seems to occur on a spectrum).  It shouldn’t be a threat to Christian belief that people can be born gay. It’s only a threat if you read that people are made in the image of God (Genesis 1) and don’t read the rest of the Bible that points out that this image is broken by sin and we’ve consistently made the decision to drag God’s name through the mud.

Jesus seems to suggest that people are born with particular sexual orientations:

“Not everyone can accept this word, but only those to whom it has been given. For there are eunuchs who were born that way, and there are eunuchs who have been made eunuchs by others—and there are those who choose to live like eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. The one who can accept this should accept it.” – Matthew 19:11-12

6. We need to stop turning sex and marriage into a Christian idol. People are wholly human before marriage. We don’t find ‘another half’ when we get married, two whole people become one flesh. Sex and marriage are good gifts from God, but they are not the ultimate pursuit of every person. Suggesting that they are essentially dehumanises those who can’t find a partner, or who choose to be single. Jesus is God. Not sex. Our union with him, which will stretch into eternity, should be what we focus on, not the short term pleasures of this world.

7. We need to start celebrating faithful singleness in church communities. The way we pray, the way we structure our Sunday gatherings and social activities, the things we choose to emphasise on our websites or in stuff we write about church – all this stuff often reinforces the idea that the Christian norm is to be married with 2.5 kids. We should be wary of forms of Christianity that exclude Jesus from our fellowship… Somehow, sometime, we need to recapture the idea that there is something incredibly powerful about faithfulness and wholeness outside of marriage and reproduction. Talk to some single people – find out how to love them well, and do that.

8. We need to actually believe that Jesus is better than sex. This is true for married people and for single people. If he’s not – then pack Christianity in and ‘eat, drink, and be merry.‘ Jesus says there won’t be marriage (so presumably sex) in the new creation (Matt 22:30). If that scares you, or you think that is somehow robbing you of some satisfaction, then maybe it’s time for a rethink about your priorities? Jesus is better. Life is better than death. The reality is better than the analogy.

9. We need to pursue sexual emancipation. There have been plenty of comparisons made to the civil rights movement in the gay marriage debate, but not so many to the fight against slavery. The argument that people are born with a homosexual orientation so must, in order to be truly human, make homosexuality the core of their identity – or pursue the practice of homosexual sex – seems to me to be analogous to the idea that if somebody is born into slavery, and doesn’t want to stay in slavery, they should stay there anyway. It’s a modern version of Hume’s Naturalistic Fallacy. And it’s an awful form of group think that oppresses and dehumanises those who don’t want to go with the flow.

10. Tell stories about real people. Just as we need to apologise to our gay neighbours for dehumanising them in the way we speak about sexuality, there are human faces who represent the alternative positions. People taking up their cross to follow Jesus by denying themselves in this space. There are people, real people, with real stories, who have chosen to approach sexuality in a way that is framed by their faith. Every Christian who understands their sexuality as an outworking of an identity in Christ – including  faithful heterosexual people – has a story to tell about bringing sexual brokenness to the table and finding wholeness and satisfaction in Jesus. I’m always greatly encouraged to see, hear, and read, stories from my faithful same sex attracted Christian brothers and sisters out there who are living stories of the pursuit of wholeness in Christ. This pursuit doesn’t mean trying to ‘pray away the gay’ – that kind of mentality and approach to sexuality is incredibly harmful, but it will in many cases mean a life of faithful celibacy. We can’t let these brothers and sisters walk this path alone, which means we need to keep hearing and celebrating these stories in order to become part of them. Such faithfulness should also always be encouraging. But these stories are a powerful antidote to some of the damaging ‘liberated’ approaches to sexuality (see 5 and 9).

 

handing in my skeptics card

I’m not the skeptic I thought I was. Forgive me for a slightly self-indulgent post musing on how I think, but this has come as quite a shock to me. It might make a change from wading through umpteen thousand words about what I think…

I’m not a skeptic.

This may not surprise you, given that my day job is to convince people of the existence of a supernatural being who sent his supernatural son (a son who shares his being) into the world he made to die and be raised from the dead. Many people think this particular sort of belief in the supernatural defies skepticism because it defies evidence and seems unbelievable (so shouldn’t be believed). I am skeptical about this sort of blanket dismissal of a particular worldview and its approach to evidence. I am skeptical about skepticism. But the fact that I’m not a skeptic surprises me.

For a long time I have described myself as a skeptic. I’ve understood my approach to truth claims as skeptical. I have understood skepticism as a core part of my epistemology (how I seek to know stuff). I’ve seen this as completely consistent with my Christianity, which I still believe is reasonable and evidence based.

I’m not really announcing a massive change in how I think I know things, just how I describe myself, particularly when it comes to discussions about Christianity. I’ll no longer play the “I’m a skeptic too” card.

There are many varieties of skepticism, many definitions, some more technical than others. What I’m talking about is skepticism as wikipedia defines it.

Skepticism is generally any questioning attitude towards knowledge, facts, or opinions/beliefs stated as facts, or doubt regarding claims that are taken for granted elsewhere. Philosophical skepticism is an overall approach that requires all information to be well supported by evidence.”

The bold bits are particularly what I’ve been coming to term with, mostly it’s about the optimistic posture I’ve found myself taking to truth claims and what I consider to be evidence that supports these truth claims. Some of the tools of skepticism still form part of how I piece together my view of the world – tools like critical thinking, rational thought, logic… I still employ these in my approach to new information. But one thing I’m dissatisfied with when it comes to skepticism is that it is so negative. I’m much more inclined to take bits of information and see how they integrate into what I already understand about the world than see each bit of information as something to be rejected, or, if it passes, placed alongside other things I have evidence for as another factoid.

I have come to realise is that skepticism does not excite me. It doesn’t light my fires. It’s not the posture I want to adopt towards learning about the world. It’s not how I want to position myself when it comes to people who come forward with new information that challenges my thinking. I don’t want my default to be doubt, I want it to be seeing if the thing will fly. If it will fit with what I understand about the world, if it will add colour, depth, and life. I’ll still reject stuff that is wacky and nonsense, but the approach to that rejection won’t begin in the same place. Which is weird. Realising this has been a bit of a paradigm shift for me.

Most people – skeptics included seek to organise the facts they accept into some sort of systematic view of the world. I’m not wanting to paint skepticism as holding to a bunch of disconnected facts without seeing how they fit together, but truly skeptical people must always doubt that they’ve got the fit right. They must question both the merit of a particular fact, and, simultaneously, the merit of the frame they try to use to hold it.

I’ve decided that for me, a systematic view of the world actually helps me organise and accept facts. And I’ve decided I’m committed to many approaches to new data prior to applying the skeptical approach to the world. So I can’t call myself a skeptic. It turns out, the system by which I organise new information has been there all along – it’s been how I identify myself all along. It’s my faith. My belief that the world is best explained when the God who made it is present. This system guides my presuppositions, but not because the system tells me it should. I don’t think. I think I have good reasons to go with Christianity as the organising idea on philosophical, aesthetic, logical, and evidentiary grounds. I am skeptical about other organising ideas having the same explanatory power as Christianity.  But to be frank, even if I think I chose the system through a skeptical approach based on evidence, I can’t escape the truth that given my upbringing Christianity is something like the default for me – so I have to keep exploring the possibility that other options will do it better. The way to assess this is how well a particular view integrates all the available data, the facts about the workings of the world, that I have come across and been convinced are true.

This isn’t skepticism. It’s freeing to admit this.

New facts don’t force me to toss out the system, but they will shape how I understand the workings of this system. I like this description, again from wikipedia, of ‘Knowledge Integration‘… this strikes me as much more fun, stimulating, and worthwhile. It also describes my intuitive approach to thinking about stuff much better than boring old skepticism.

Knowledge integration has also been studied as the process of incorporating new information into a body of existing knowledge with an interdisciplinary approach. This process involves determining how the new information and the existing knowledge interact, how existing knowledge should be modified to accommodate the new information, and how the new information should be modified in light of the existing knowledge.”

I want to know stuff. I want to see how all the different streams of information, all the different facts, all the different fields of scholarship – from philosophy, to science, to the arts, to theology, can be integrated in a coherent and exciting way. One of these fields of knowledge has to provide the organising framework for the others. I think that’s just how it works. For me, this is theology – Christian theology – it helps me make sense of the world. As CS Lewis says:

“I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.” 

I’m liking this quote more and more.

I’ll stick with Christianity until I find a better look out point from which to view the world (and I’ll continue to allow my presuppositions to be challenged, though I admit to finding the intricacies and aesthetics of Christianity quite compelling). I’m probably too far gone. I just don’t know what other system accommodates and explains the Jesus event, and the emergence of Christianity post-crucifixion with the same power as Christianity. I think Christianity offers the best explanation of world history, the human condition, and our ability to do science and know anything as real. I think Christianity is the most coherent philosophical and ethical framework. I think the Bible’s story, centred on Jesus, is, aesthetically speaking, the best narrative to live by. But I’m open to other ideas.

I work with some very clever people who make very beautiful things. This term our church has tackled an ambitious project to show a stack of ways the Law, the Prophets and the Psalms are all about Jesus. Like he says they are in Luke 24.

We’re showing this episodic detective series The Adventures of Joe Jaffa in our services. I think it’s fantastic. I’m blown away by the sort of talent that is required to produce this sort of gear. I’ll update this post over the next few weeks (I’ve been trying to figure out the best way to share them so they can be appreciated sequentially). Here are the first five.

If your church could use these for anything – please do feel free to use them (it’d also be great to know if you are). There are hundreds of hours of work going into this (from one very passionate animator), so it’d be great for that work to help lots of people for a long time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In that thing I wrote the other day about the awful tragedy unfolding in Iraq one of things I suggest in the list of things we might do when confronted with this tragedy is writing to relevant members and ministers in the Australian parliament calling for Australia to get involved with solving this complicated problem.

Here’s the letter I wrote. I’m massively channeling Sam Freney’s excellent letter to the Government about asylum seekers here. I hadn’t realised how much until I went back and read it.

Why not write something to these peeps yourself?

Why not also, while you’re praying for what’s going down in Iraq, pray for our politicians – often when we speak into stuff as Christians we forget how complex solutions to our broken world are, and that one of the things we’re told to do in the Bible is pray for those in authority.

I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people— for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. This is good, and pleases God our Saviour, who wants all people to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth. – 1 Timothy 2:1-4


Dear Prime Minister Hon Tony Abbott,

Minister for Immigration and Border Protection Hon Scott Morrison,

Opposition Leader Hon Bill Shorten, and Shadow Minister for Immigration,

and Border Protection Hon Richard Marles,

As a Christian, and an Australian Citizen, I am grieved and greatly moved by the plight of those persecuted to the point of death by the Islamic State of Iraq in the Levant (ISIL). You are no doubt aware of the situation and brutal future facing minority groups who refuse the rule of the self-appointed Caliphate.

This is a complex mess and I do not envy the Government as it forms whatever Australia’s response will be to these actions.

I don’t want to send a letter that denies the complexities involved in this, or involved in the global refugee crisis to which this conflict is quickly becoming a contributor.

I do want to send a letter encouraging you to know that many Christians are praying for you as you navigate this mess, and many others. As a Christian who takes the Bible seriously I believe this is the church’s role. To pray for you as you govern, and submit to your authority. And I believe your role is to find the best outcomes in a messy world made messier by the darkness of the human heart.

But I want to do something about this situation. I want to be part of the solution. I want to offer my resources. My time. My home. Whatever you can take, whatever can be of service, to help those who have been forced from their homes and their resources, by these events. Please tell me – and people like me – how we can help.

Please be prepared to think outside the box.

My family lives in a pretty modest, typical, house, but we can make room, we can accommodate, feed and clothe those who have been displaced. We can welcome those seeking refuge into our home, and into our family life. We are prepared to love and offer hospitality at our cost, not at the cost of the taxpayer. I’m sure there are others in a similar position who would do likewise. How will Australia play its part in responding to this emergency?

There are always going to be barriers to limit our intake of refugees if we are not prepared to make ourselves uncomfortable in our response, but this need seems pressing and I can’t bear to think that those who have seen friends and family brutally executed in this conflict should have their suffering prolonged by red tape. I recognise that there are many refugees from many conflicts in many refugee camps, and in detention – and my family would be happy to accommodate people from these situations as well.

Please can we look beyond the ideal model of dealing with this emergency, whatever that looks like, to find more rapid, costly, and compassionate solutions to this fractured world?

Surely a mattress on our lounge room floor and home cooked meals, for as long as is necessary, is preferable to life in a refugee camp.

We will take and provide for as many refugees as you believe is possible, and I will organise homes for as many others as I can using social media – many of my friends have expressed a desire to be part of the solution to this tragedy and have changed their profile pictures to the Arabic letter ن as an expression of solidarity with the persecuted. I don’t know how many people we can help – but it will be more than none, and better than nothing.

I want to be generous to those displaced – not just the Christians who are being persecuted for following Jesus, but anybody who is in need – by following Jesus, giving up what I have been given for the sake of others.

Please let me, and others who are willing, find new ways to do that in the midst of this appalling international tragedy.

Sincerely,

Nathan Campbell

John Stackhouse is a very smart man. And a Christian. He was on Q&A last night and served up what I think is the only coherent way to reconcile the tension between the very broken world we live in, and all the bad stuff that goes on, and not just believe in the existence of a loving God, but follow that God. I had a stab at answering this question (sort of) in about 12,000 words. Stackhouse was much more succinct. So his answer is of significantly greater value.

The ABC will no doubt post a transcript in the next little while – but I typed this one out last night to share on Facebook.

Question: Professor Stackhouse, as you know there is a lot of strife in this world, in various places, including what one commentator called evil, the likes of which we have not seen in generations. Such evil is even being visited upon innocent children. And many Australians are beginning to feel a sense of despair. It’s tempting to ask why God hasn’t shown up on the scene to fix a very broken situation. But supposing he did what’s your sense of a just punishment for those who bomb, torture, rape, and slay innocent human beings. And by the same token what remains of a positive vision for peace.

Stackhouse: I think it’s an excellent question. We do have to presume, if we’re Christians, and people of similar outlooks, that God is mourning over the world, that God is not happy about these things and that God, is, in fact, as the ancient Scriptures say, keeping a log of these things. That nobody does anything in a secret place. God has maximum surveillance in fact. He does know what everybody is doing all the time. He knows the metadata and the data. He’s got it all.

TJ: Does he do much with it though?

Stackhouse: Well. That’s I think the crucial question. If God wants me to continue to trust him as an all good and all powerful God when he manifestly seems not to be one or the other or both, then he better give me a jolly good reason to trust him anyway. And God hasn’t given me any daily briefing on why he’s allowing the atrocities here, or the atrocities there, and they go back since the dawn of time.

TJ: Is that where faith comes in, because we know many holocaust survivors lost their faith when they saw the dark side of human nature, and realised that God was never going to intervene?

Stackhouse: Indeed. Post holocaust theology among my Jewish friends is a very daunting and very dark place, because for them there is no ground on which to continue to believe in God that is strong enough, to outweigh the grounds for not believing in God. And that to me is the real question. It’s not necessarily whether God explains to me what he’s going to do. I’m not sure whether I have the moral or the mental capacity to be able to judge whether God is doing a good job in the world. I think he’s not doing a good job often, but I’m not sure I’m capable to judge that. But if he wants me allegience, he jolly well better give me a good reason to trust him anyway. And. For the Christian. That answer is Jesus. That answer is looking at this figure who Christians believe is the very face of God. So if God’s like that, then I can trust this hidden God, who seems to be making a mess of the world. And if he’s not like that, then I’m in a difficult situation. So Tony, for me, as a Christian who looks at the world like everybody else does, if I don’t have Jesus, I frankly, better be an atheist because like my Jewish friends, post holocaust, God doesn’t seem to be doing a very good job running things.